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Her other mother smiled brightly and the hair on her head drifted like plants under the sea.
-Neil Gaiman
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Her Other Mother Smiled Brightly And The

Neil Gaiman
Her other mother smiled brightly and the hair on her head drifted like plants under the sea.
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Mother Hair Sea

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The sea of galilee and the dead sea are made of the same water. it flows down, clean and cool, from the heights of herman and the roots of the cedars of lebanon. the sea of galilee makes beauty of it, the sea of galilee has an outlet. it gets to give. it gathers in its riches that it may pour them out again to fertilize the jordan plain. but the dead sea with the same water makes horror. for the dead sea has no outlet. it gets to keep.
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Everyone who’s born has come from the sea. your mother’s womb is just a sea in small. and birds come of seas on eggs. horses lie in the sea before they’re born. the placenta is the sea. your blood is the sea continued in your veins. we are the ocean — walking on the land.
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I stare at her chest. as she breathes, the rounded peaks move up and down like the swell of waves, somehow reminding me of rain falling softly on a broad stretch of sea. i'm the lonely voyager standing on deck, and she's the sea. the sky is a blanket of gray, merging with the gray sea off on the horizon. it's hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. between voyager and sea. between reality and the workings of the heart.
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But in a way you can say that after leaving the sea, after all those millions of years of living inside of the sea, we took the ocean with us. when a woman makes a baby, she gives it water, inside her body, to grow in. that water inside her body is almost exactly the same as the water of the sea. it is salty, by just the same amount. she makes a little ocean, in her body. and not only this. our blood and our sweating, they are both salty, almost exactly like the water from the sea is salty. we carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and our sweat. and we are crying the oceans, in our tears.
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Loki," i said. "hey, princess." he smiled dazedly as he looked up at me. "what's wrong?" "nothing." i smiled and shook my head. "not anymore." "what's this?" he took my hair and held it out so i could see. a curl near the front had gone completely silver. "i take a nap, and you go gray?" "you didn't take a nap." i laughed. "don't you remember what happened?" he furrowed his brow, trying to remember, and understanding flashed in his eyes. "i remember..." loki touched my face. "i remember that i love you." i bent down, kissing him full on the mouth, and he held me to him.
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India was the motherland of our race, and sanskrit the mother of europe's languages: she was the mother of our philosophy; mother, through the arabs, of much of our mathematics; mother, through the buddha, of the ideals embodied in christianity; mother, through the village community, of self-government and democracy. mother india is in many ways the mother of us all.
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